How Umbridge Met Her Match
by dontforget2live
Summary: Umbridge somehow finds herself in a different era, and guess who she has for company? Why, the Marauders, of course! The only problem? James and Sirius will stop at nothing to make her go barmy. Total crackfic. Set in OotP/the Marauders' fifth year. Rated K plus. Complete.


**A/N: Hello again! This was a birthday present for my friend N.H.**** Happy birthday, N. H.!**

**Oh, and one thing I need to stress about this fic is that I am not trying to make Umbridge seem OOC, but as we never really saw too much inside her head (fortunately), we never really got to see what she's really like. So I improvised a little.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its plots or characters, and I am _definitely _not J.K. Rowling.**

**EDIT AS OF 07/05/013: I fixed this a little because I wasn't totally satisfied with this fic. I added a few things that I like a bit more now ;)**

* * *

><p>Dolores Umbridge rubbed her temples tiredly. That Potter brat always gave her <em>such <em>headaches… but in turn, Dolores gave him _handaches_.

_Ah_, she thought maliciously, an evil smile lighting up her face, _karma is sweet._

With a new spring in her step at thoughts of punishing more students, Dolores flounced off to get ready for bed.

* * *

><p>The next morning when she awoke, Dolores took her hair out of her curlers and went to her office for morning tea. While sipping her favorite chai, she surveyed the grounds. <em>They seem different, <em>she mused slowly.

Shrugging nonchalantly and brushing the thought off, Dolores bent down to pat the head of her new Persian kitten.

"Good morning, Miss Ethylene!" she cooed, smiling at her cat before going to her dormitory to get dressed.

* * *

><p>Hogwarts <em>was <em>different. The castle and everything inside it seemed younger. She couldn't recognize any of the faces (not that she bother to memorize anyone's face in the first place- who do you think she was, the Sorting Hat?) except for Dumbledore, who gave her that infuriating _twinkle_ and… _McGonagall_ (urgh, Dolores absolutely _loathed_ that witch).

A group of four teenage boys sauntered into view. The leader was easily recognizable, with his lanky frame, stupidly messy black hair, and… hazel eyes?

_Wait_, Dolores thought. _Potter has green eyes_.

Still thinking about this mystery, Dolores studied the others. The boy beside Potter was familiar, too; he had stone gray eyes and long, sleek black hair. His features, his mannerisms—everything about him screamed aristocracy, the Pureblood kind. The boy on Potter's other side had sandy brown hair, a few scars on a kind-shaped face, and a slightly sickly aura about him. He too was slightly familiar, his face pulling on the tips of her consciousness. The remaining boy was pudgy, with dark blond hair and slightly protruding buckteeth. All in all, he looked comparable to a mouse or some kind of rat.

With a gasp, Dolores realized who the aristocratic boy was: he was the younger, carefree version of Sirius Black, the convicted mass murderer that had escaped from Azkaban two years prior.

Processing this new information, she realized that the boy she thought to be Potter was actually Potter Senior and the other two were the Werewolf Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, the boy who Black killed.

_These are the famed Marauders,_ she thought, not exactly sure whether she should wallop their behinds back into the 19th century or back away very, very slowly.

At her gasp, Black turned around and caught sight of her. He immediately turned up his nose haughtily and gave her a very disdainful look.

Dolores subconsciously looked down at herself. In her favorite fluffy pink cardigan and matching skirt, _she_ certainly didn't think she looked bad at all. After a moment, Potter Senior followed his friend's gaze and smirked cockily at Dolores, who was mentally seething.

_You can't get to me_, she thought, thinning her lips angrily_. I am Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. _Nothing_ can stop me._

She didn't know how wrong she was.

* * *

><p>Dolores sauntered into her classroom and to her desk the moment the bell rang. She was surprised to note that none of the students were paying any attention to her.<p>

"_Hem hem,_" she coughed delicately, pausing on the raised partition at the front of the classroom.

Black looked up lazily. "Did someone cough?" he asked, looking extremely bored. A few of the girls by the window giggled at his comment, and Black dropped them a wink.

"Good morning!" Dolores greeted them in a faux-cheerful voice. "My name is Professor Umbridge."

The class all shouted, "Good Morning, Professor Umbridge!" except for Black and Potter Senior, who shouted in high falsettos that fooled nobody, "Good _Mooorning_, Dolores!"

Dolores clenched her teeth. "I expect better behavior from students in my class," she informed them as sweetly as she could manage, "10 points from Gryffindor. I hope you can watch your mouths, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black."

Black smirked. "Okay," he said, in a way that made Dolores immediately suspicious.

She had cause for concern, for as soon as Dolores turned to the papers covering her desk Black pulled out his wand and with a muttered incantation, a mouth drew itself onto the back of his hand. "Helloooo, Dolores!" It chirped.

Dolores clenched her fists. "Mind your actions, then," she hissed.

Most of the class was now stifling giggles as Black grinned mischievously. "Hark who's talking," he stage-whispered to Potter. "You look like a pink Puffskein."

"But Pads," Potter Senior joined in, failing to even try to disguise his own smirk, "If she were a Puffskein, she'd be somewhat attractive."

There was a collective gasp from around the room.

"Detention, Mr. Black and Mr. Potter," Dolores said quietly, trying to calm herself down. It only sort of worked.

"Now," Dolores started, smiling sweetly. "Everyone, turn to page 394 of your copies of _Defensive Magical Theory_, please."

She flicked her wand at the chalkboard and the word '_WEREWOLVES' _wrote itself in girlish script onto the board. Lupin blanched visibly at the word, while his mates all immediately turned angry.

"Werewolves," Dolores repeated, now stifling her own smirk, "are one of the most dangerous and untamable beasts of all. Can anyone tell me what a werewolf is?"

Potter Senior's hand shot up almost immediately, and Dolores decided to call on him to see what hogwash he would come up with.

"Werewolves," he said in a very irritating fashion, "Are _not always_ horrible creatures."

Dolores laughed cruelly. "'Not always'? _All _werewolves are evil, malevolent creatures, Mr. Potter," she stated firmly, watching with almost –oh, who was she kidding, it wasn't almost—sadistic pleasure as Lupin looked even more depressed.

Both Black and Potter Senior now looked completely mutinous, turning interesting shades of candy and bubblegum pink respectively. "But what about the other days, when it's not the full moon? Werewolves are normal then," Potter called out, getting to his feet.

"Your _hand_, Mr. Potter," Dolores said irritably. "20 more points will be taken from Gryffindor, and if you say anything else, you will get another detention."

A muttered expletive came from near the window as a girl with bright red hair and Potter Junior's green eyes raised her hand. Dolores indicated that she should speak with an airy hand.

"Professor," the girl began, "What about the Wolfsbane Potion?"

Dolores giggled girlishly. "Yes, there is a potion called Wolfsbane. It is _supposed _to allow the drinker to retain his or her mind on the full moon, but I don't believe it and neither should you."

The redheaded girl (Dolores had finally decided that this was Potter's mum) raised her hand again. "Werewolves are just like you and I!" she burst out indignantly, also getting to her feet. "They're no different!"

Dolores was starting to get seriously angry. "Twenty points from Gryffindor! Would you like a detention, Miss—?"

"Evans. Lily Evans, Professor."

"Then I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Miss Evans," Dolores said in a sugary voice, glancing up at the clock, and realizing that it was already a few minutes after the bell. "Class dismissed. Oh, and your detention will be at 8 p.m., Mr. Black. Mr. Potter, yours will be at 9 p.m. Don't be late!"

The two troublemakers in question gave Dolores cheeky grins and swaggered out of the classroom after the rest of their year. _Buggers._

* * *

><p>Three sharp raps sounded on the door to Dolores's office at exactly 8 o'clock.<p>

"Enter!" she called, already knowing that it was Black, there for his detention.

The convict entered and sat down in the chair Dolores indicated. "Hello," he said smoothly, folding his hands. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Black," Dolores said curtly. "Though we are not here to trade pleasantries."

"Well, then what shall I be doing for my detention?"

Dolores smiled blandly and pushed the black-feathered quill over to the boy. By the subtle widening of his eyes, he recognized it. "Now, write."

Black took the quill and wrote _h__ello, my name is Sirius _across the page, barely even wincing as his hand was cut open.

Dolores growled. "Write down '_I must not cheek my professors_,"she enunciated venomously, gnashing her teeth.

Black wrote down _I must not tell my professors the truth._

Dolores snarled again. "Write _only _what I tell you to, Black."

"Sure, Professor," He answered, grinning. Bloody little bugger _knew_ he was getting under her skin, for Salazar's sake.

_I must not cheek my professors. _

_I must not cheek my professors. _

_I must not cheek my professors._

_I must not cheek my professors…_

Half an hour passed. "You may go now, Black," she said quietly, grabbing the quill from the boy's hands. Black quickly got up and exited the office without a goodbye.

* * *

><p>Sirius met James out in the hallway and caught his friend's arm. "James," he said in a low voice. "That madwoman's going to make you write with a Blood Quill."<p>

"A _Blood_ Quill?" James asked, looking thoroughly shocked and appalled.

Sirius nodded grimly. "Should I get McGonagall?"

James nodded mutely. "She might do this to more people," he responded, running a nervous hand through his ever-messy hair.

Sirius nodded back, shaking his own head. _How did this madwoman ever become a teacher?_ "Come with me. You don't have to do the detention."

James snorted darkly. "If I don't, she'll know something's wrong," he retaliated, pursing his lips.

Sirius didn't look convinced. "Try to side-track her, then."

"Did that work with you?"

"Well, no."

James chuckled and clapped his mate on the shoulder. "I'm not that much better at distracting people then you are, Pads," he retorted, smiling slightly. "I'll be fine on my own, Sirius. _Go_."

Sirius nodded determinedly. "I'll get Minnie," he said, and ran off to find his Head of House.

* * *

><p>"You're saying, Mr. Black," McGonagall said finally, looking unconvinced, "that Professor Umbridge has a <em>Blood Quill<em> in her possession and is using it on _students?"_

Sirius scowled slightly. "Yes, Professor," he answered, showing her the faint red line on the back of his hand. "She's used it on me, and she's going using it on James and then even _more_ students."

McGonagall still looked skeptical. "Is this a joke, Mr. Black?" she asked her student quietly, looking him in the eyes. "Is this some kind of prank?"

Sirius looked at her in surprise. "Professor, would I _really _joke about something as Dark as that?" he asked indignantly, glaring back up at her. "For the sake of Godric, she really has one!"

McGonagall stood up and walked to the door. "If you're lying, Mr. Black," she called over her shoulder, fixing the boy with her usual stern gaze, "I will give you a _month _of detention, and make you clean every toilet in this school_ the Muggle way_."

* * *

><p>Dolores was starting to get angry again. "Mr. Potter," she said slowly, clenching her teeth. "Just write <em>what I say<em>."

Potter Senior just chuckled annoyingly and opened his mouth to quip back, but was interrupted by a sharp knocking upon the door.

Dolores siphoned the blood off of the paper Potter was writing on quickly. "Who's there?" she called out, feeling slightly anxious.

"It's Minerva McGonagall, Professor Umbridge. May I enter?"

Dolores swallowed subconsciously before responding. "You may."

McGonagall entered the office, Black trailing after her. "We've received reports that you have been intentionally maiming students with a Dark object," the other professor announced. "Would you mind if I searched your office?"

Dolores felt alarmed. "You want to search my office?" she asked, looking very nervous indeed. "Whyever for?"

"I believe I just told you," McGonagall responded, her words laced with steel.

"Do you really think _I _of all people would do such a _horrible _thing?" Dolores asked her fellow professor, giggling nervously.

"If you have nothing to hide, why not let us search?" McGonagall asked, smiling slightly.

Dolores knew that McGonagall had backed her up into a corner. "Oh, very well," Dolores said, sighing dramatically. "But _do _hurry up. Mr. Potter still has to finish his detention."

McGonagall nodded once before going over to inspect the fireplace. Black still trailed after her and Dolores watched as he whispered something to his Head of House.

McGonagall swept over to Dolores's desk and picked up the Quill. "Is this a Blood Quill, Dolores?" she asked, looking her fellow professor in the eye.

Dolores smiled insincerely. "Of _course _not!" She exclaimed, giggling again (although she didn't even fool herself). "I work for the Ministry, Professor McGonagall. Why would I do such a _monstrous _thing?"

McGonagall smiled slyly again. "So, if _isn't _a Blood Quill, could you write a test word for me?"

Dolores gulped. She was backed into a corner again, and had only two options; none of them were good.

"Try it," McGonagall repeated, a small smile pulling up the corner of her mouth.

Something very strange was happening indeed. All of the sudden, all of her beautiful china cat saucers began to cough. But not only were they coughing—they were coughing _her cough._

It got louder.

_Hem hem. Hem hem._

Louder.

_Hem HEM_

_HEM HEM_

_HEM HEM HEM HEM HEM HEM HEM HEM._

Behind her, Black smirked.

That smirk was her undoing. Dolores finally cracked.

"_Why_? What gives you the right to ask me such personal questions?" She shrieked, standing up suddenly.

"Is it or is it not a Blood Quill, Dolores?" McGonagall demanded coldly.

"'_Is it or is it not?'" _Dolores mimicked angrily.

"IS IT A BLOOD QUILL OR NOT?"

"YES! YES, OKAY? ARE YOU BLOODY HAPPY?"

"Yes. Yes, I am," McGonagall said smugly. She twisted around to face the window. "Albus, you can come out now."

The air by the window shimmered a bit and the Headmaster himself appeared. "Hello, Dolores," he said pleasantly. "You have 10 minutes to pack up."

"WHAT?" she shouted. "YOU CANNOT SACK ME! I AM _DOLORES UMBRIDGE_, SENIOR UNDERSECRETARy TO THE _MINISTER_ OF _MAGIC_ AND HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS! YOU _CANNOT_ MAKE ME LEAVE!"

"Oh, yes, Dolores, we _can _make you leave," Dumbledore said in that same pleasant tone. "You see, in _this _time, the Minister believes me."

"I WON'T GO, MOMMY, I WON'T GO!"

"Oh, why can't they ever go out quietly?" McGonagall said, but laughed all the same as Dumbledore waved his wand and the room packed itself into a fluffy pink suitcase.

"I WON'T GO!"

Dumbledore sighed, pinching the bridge of his crooked nose. "I'll show her out, Minerva," the old man said lightly, grabbing the suitcase and offering his arm to Dolores. When she didn't take it, Dumbledore sighed and grabbed her arm.

The world started to twist and Dolores screamed, "_NOOOOOOOOOOOOO_!"

* * *

><p>Dolores twitched, and found she was screaming and sweating and gasping all at once.<p>

_It was a dream, _she thought wildly._ It was just a dream. I'm okay. The marauders aren't here…_

Taking a quick glance at the clock on the wall told her it was time to get up, so Dolores climbed out of bed on unsteady feet and started to dress. Out of pure coincidence, she happened to put on the same pink puffy cardigan of her dream.

* * *

><p>Dolores shakily entered the classroom, still anxious about the nightmare. All of her students of her students were already there, including Potter (Junior, luckily), who was smirking in a very suspicious and familiar way.<p>

"Good morning, class," Dolores said in her sickly sweet voice.

Potter raised his hand. Dolores tried to ignore it, but knew he would say what he _had _to say anyway. "Yes?" she asked, simpering sweetly.

Potter stood up. "Professor Umbridge," he said, still smirking that insufferable smirk, "you look like a pink Puffskein."

And without preamble, Dolores screamed and ran out of the classroom.

* * *

><p><strong>MWHAHAHAHAH. I feel slightly evil now.<strong>

**Also, just to clear some things up: Harry had the same dream that Umbridge had. That's why he said the Puffskein thing.**

**Toodles,**

**~dontforget2live**

**P.S. GO FOLLOW MY TUMBLR PLEASE! UNFATHOMABLE-C0NSTELLATIONS DOT TUMBLR DOT COM. :D**


End file.
